


By Any Means

by samedifference61



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Branding, Brothels, First Time, Hux is Not Nice, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Revenge, Rey Hux and Ren do not die, Reylux - Freeform, Snoke Is A Creep, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samedifference61/pseuds/samedifference61
Summary: Written for the Reylux Spring Swap prompt:Alternatively, a nautical AU with Rey pretending to be a man on a ship. Hux and Ren as captain and first mate deciding what to do with her when they find out her secret.It was too easy, thinking she could hide amongst the grain barrels and go unseen for the ship’s duration across the Atlantic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BastetsBeloved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastetsBeloved/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy, BastetsBeloved! Thank you for such fun prompts. Although Hux is pretty nasty here and Rey does get thrown around, I couldn't bring myself to go in the full-on dubcon direction. Would have severely complicated what I have planned next. ;) Also everything I know about pirates I learned from Black Sails. Fair warning. :)

It was too easy, thinking she could hide amongst the grain barrels and go unseen for the ship’s duration across the Atlantic.

When they discover her—she isn’t ready, had only closed her eyes for a second, exhausted from fear and cramped on the damp, musty floor. The three men surround her, grinning like it’s a game. In the struggle, her hair comes loose where it’s gathered with a tie.

“Aye, a woman!” one of them shouts with such surprise Rey nearly rolls her eyes. The clothing she wears—a man’s set of warn trousers and boots, a brown waistcoat—can only do so much to conceal her more feminine features while she’s under direct assault. The wide-brimmed hat that throws most of her face into shadows already lays crumpled on the floor.

She draws the knife from her boot, snarls her intent to wound the man that comes nearest. She won’t be taken easily, woman or not.

Two of the men laugh, refusing to take her seriously, while the third looks afraid—eyes widening in panic. She goes for him first, gets a good slash at his shoulder before they overpower her and hold her down.

They bind her arms with rope that scrapes her wrists raw as she struggles, and cover her head with a dirty sack that smells of rotten potatoes—something meant for kitchen scraps. She’s lifted without much effort, blind and heaving while they haul her above deck.

She screams— _hates it_ , hates hearing the cry tear from her throat, helpless and bound. It was foolish to think this plan had any chance of succeeding, that these men, the _Finalizer’s_ crew, might stop to listen to her if she were discovered instead of killing her on sight. A big hand closes over her mouth and nose, a second one folds against the back of her head cutting off her air until she quiets, lungs burning from the effort.

She’s nearly out of strength when she’s thrown to the deck so she curls on her side to protect herself, squeezes her eyes shut to hold the tears back. It’s hot beneath the sack, hotter on deck with the sun to bake the inside, and the sweat rolls from the hair matted to her forehead, sticking to her lips while she waits, paralized by her own fear.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but now, as she lays on the deck curled into herself, she can’t remember why she ever thought it could go any other way.

There’s commotion, the ship’s crew, probably around thirty of them—will certainly all throw down their usual work to witness such a spectacle. No one touches her, but they’re near. Waiting for direction.

Finally, the sack is wretched from her face and Rey takes great gulps of air, blinks against the harsh midday sunlight and the sharpened smell of salt carried along the ocean breeze. They’re at sea now, blue waves stretching out endlessly in all directions. The last she saw of the sun, they were still in London harbor, two days ago.

She’s hauled forward with a strong, unforgiving grip on her forearm. In a well educated accent, this man says, “I should let them rip you to pieces. A _whore_ deserves no less.”

Rey doesn’t look at the speaker before she spits at his boots, shouting, “I’m no man’s _whore_.”

The men around them cackle, surprised by her forwardness—murmuring to themselves and enjoying her struggle.

The man gripping her strikes her across the face, and the metal edge of a ring scrapes a cut along her chin, splits her lip with its momentum. Her mind is blank for a moment, reeling from the blow.

When she can focus again, there’s a small trail of blood from the dripping wound. It’s already swelling when she licks at it, but she holds her head high, bares her blood stained teeth. She’s good at making people believe she isn’t afraid while she’s quivering internally.

“I shall have your tongue for your insolence, _whore_.”

Rey gets a good look at him now—he’s a tall, thin man with a ruddy complexion, a well-groomed beard, and sun bleached hair, a man hardened by years at sea. He presses the cool blade of a knife into her skin, and this isn’t posturing. He’ll do it if she gives him reason, gut her here for trespassing with every man aboard as witnesses.

_This is how it ends. This is the way I’m meant to leave this world. By the hand of a stranger—a blink away from setting things right._

The cheers rise from the crew, but they seem to be keeping some distance too. He commands their respect. The quartermaster, then. He drags her forward by her hair, forcing it back to bare her throat. It’s harder to retain her composure in such a vulnerable position, but she doesn’t close her eyes, meets any man that dare look her way.

“Hux!” A rough shout from above, and the rest fall silent.

The quartermaster’s grip loosens, all eyes shifting to the quarterdeck where a dark haired man is glaring at them all, both hands gripping the railing while he looks down upon them.

“Bring her here,” he commands.

Hux pulls her upright and she grits her teeth. Stumbles to her feet so he doesn’t drag her so painfully. She’ll need her legs if she’s to continue fighting.

This must be the captain of the _Finalizer_ , Kylo Ren. She only knows him by name and reputation, not by face. He’s dressed in a long dark coat with brass buttons along the embroidered trim, worn, but of better quality than the clothing of the rest, dark hair that comes to his shoulders, half of it tied behind his ears. A silver cutlass is fastened to his wide belt, well maintained, glittering in the sunlight. Probably stolen. He has cold, hardened eyes, but he’s also young. She wonders how someone so young could command a ship this size—could gain such a reputation so quickly. She certainly wasn’t expecting someone like this when she heard stories of the _Finalizer’s_ men.

“The men found her in the food storage, a _stowaway_.” Hux says stowaway like it’s equivalent to the filth found under one's boots. Rey bares her teeth once more, but then corrects herself, bows her head in reluctant respect. She will need the captain’s favor if she’s to survive the hour.

“Who are you?” the captain asks, expression impassive.

She steadies herself on her knees, lifts her chin and holds her hands together to quiet their shaking, covers the raised scar on the underside of her wrist, the seven point star that’s marked her since she was a child. It reminds her why she’s here and she holds onto that thought when she says, “My name is Rey. I seek passage to Boston.”

It’s a lie. Rey knows this ship isn’t headed toward Boston, or anywhere in the English colonies.

Hux laughs and the men follow suit. “Passage to Boston? _Foolish girl_. We don’t accept passengers nor do you have coin to pay your fare. How will she pay us, men?”

The men grumble and cheer, laugh at the implication that Rey might pay them with her body. She lowers her eyes, pushes the anger and bile down low. She can’t afford a misstep now. There’s nowhere to run. She’s at their mercy, she finally admits, bound and bleeding at their feet.

The knife is at her neck again, and Rey tries to hold the eyes of the captain. They can do with her what they like and no one will stop them. She won’t plead for her life aloud, but she fears the cold stare of this stranger is the only thing that might keep her alive.

“How shall we proceed, Captain?” It’s theater, Rey hopes. Hux has them enthralled by this display, but the captain will have the final word. She’s certain of this.

They wait in silence for the captain to speak. Rey hasn’t a clue how he will answer. He looks to the deck behind Rey, surveying the expressions of the men, weighing his options. His eyes settle on Rey, considering her carefully—but then shift to Hux, where the glint of familiarity is easy to see, and a silent, indiscernible conversation seems to pass between captain and quartermaster. These men are not Royal Navy. Their loyalty to captain and crew mean everything here, and Rey was stupid to believe she would be worth jeopardizing that.

_I was so close, father. Forgive my failure._

Rey closes her eyes, resigned to death. These men won’t help her.

Rey barely hears the captain’s decision, the words not registering until the knife is pulled from her neck, no cut made.

“Take her below and keep her hands bound. No man aboard this ship is to touch her.”

The men grumble and sneer, but do as they’re told.

* * *

 

Rey loses time after that, shackled to the hull support beams amongst the food storage barrels where they found her. It’s torture existing in the inbetween, still not knowing if she’s to die this day.

She wakes to something metal and cold nudging at her shoulder, a shallow bowl of water sliding across the wooden floorboards.

It must be night. The men are quiet, no pound and creak of boots above her head, only the dim flicker of candlelight below.

In no position to refuse, she rises to a crouch on aching limbs, takes the rag set inside the bowl. Dips her fingers inside, tastes it. Sea water. Not as she had hoped.

From the shadow of the doorway, Captain Kylo Ren is silent while he studies her. It’s curious that he would come alone and in person. Carefully, she begins cleaning the flecks of blood from her face, avoiding the cut and the sting, eyes lowered, hating how he watches her. He’s hidden just enough that she won’t be able to learn anything from his expression.

Coming closer, Rey holds her breath and remains still. The captain crouches before her, takes a handful of her matted hair, smells the ends. It’s intrusive and odd enough that instinct leads her to recoil, to snap her head away from his hands, not wanting to be appraised like cattle.

“Not a whore, then. And not a servant,” he decides.

Her hair must smell of the soap she used days ago. It hadn’t occurred to her anyone could deduce her economic status based on the smell of her hair, the fine soap she has always used.

“Your accent is too highborne for either anyway. You try to hide it, but you don’t really know how. Not enough practice.” At first, she mistakes this for arrogance, but maybe he understands from personal experience. “And this?” He holds up the knife, _her_ knife, the one stolen from her when she was discovered.

Rey blinks at him, trying not to flinch, still stubbornly holding to her dignity.

“You managed to cut one of my men with this. Do you know how to use it?” He suspects she does. The short blade gleams in the candlelight when he turns it on end, flips it to test the weight.

“Give it back and I’ll show you,” she snarls.

The captain smiles, a lopsided upturn of one side of his mouth. Unexpected. He slips the knife in his belt, close to the handle of his much heavier cutlass. Keeping his interest may be the only reason she remains alive now.

“Who are you?”

“Rey. I seek passage to Boston.”

“Yes, you said that. I don’t believe it. _Who are you?_ ”

“I’m nothing. From nowhere.”

It’s true now, even if it wasn’t a week ago. The path she’s on doesn’t allow for ties or history.

He swoops forward again, grabbing her wrist to bare the underside, pulls the sleeve above the shackle. “Who gave you this?”

Not expecting this, Rey pulls her arm free with a gasp, covers the raised brand on her wrist with her hand, feels the star’s ridges under her fingertips.

If he’s questioning it, she suspects the captain already knows who gave her the mark. He must have seen it earlier when she struggled against the rope bindings on deck. This is the reason she still lives.

Rey is angry. She didn’t intend anyone to know this part of her plan, least of all Captain Kylo Ren. “The man I intend to kill gave me this,” she shouts, forgetting to uphold the lie, heaving with her own anger and trying to push the memories down low.

She won’t let them consume her this day. The time has passed for grief. Her father is dead, her sister too, and Rey will have her revenge.

The captain laughs, cruel and disbelieving. “There’s only one man who marks a person in that way. I know that symbol, the seven pointed star. When he takes a ship, Captain Snoke, he brands the last one alive to tell the tale. You were _lucky_ to survive him. I know you chose this ship despite the risks, thinking _I_ would agree to take you to him.” He shakes his head, skeptical. “You can’t kill the man you seek. You’ll die trying.”

He knows the man who branded her, Captain Snoke, knows what the brand means and knows Snoke put it there. There’s a brief flicker of hope, pleased she chose the right ship to carry her toward her goal of killing Snoke. She was nearly certain, but it’s not as if vessels of this nature advertise their ties or livelihood. It was lucky she found it at all, appearing one night in London harbor after months of anticipation and planning. The _Finalizer_ —the ship that will carry her toward Nassau upon New Providence island, toward Captain Snoke aboard the _Supremacy_ and the network of pirates operating under his terror.

Captain Ren is looking for honesty, and Rey can give it to him now if it will carry her forward.

“I was told this ship, the _Finalizer_ , was manned by pirates based out of New Providence Island. Nassau town. You will take me there so that I can find Captain Snoke. I ask nothing more.”

“This is a merchant ship,” the captain lies, holding her gaze, voice calm.

“Pirates,” Rey insists, curls her lip to show him exactly what he thinks of them. “You, Captain Kylo Ren—also known as the Atlantic Executioner and a former apprentice to Captain Snoke—capture British and French merchant ships, Spanish if you’re lucky—all bound for the Americas and sell the stolen goods on New Providence Island. Then, those goods are sold back to the rich plantation owners along the coastal regions of the Americas. _Pirates_.”

The smile returns—clearly pleased she’s done her research, If he isn’t entirely sure why she knows such information. Keep him on his toes. That’s how she’ll survive this.

“You aren’t afraid?” he asks. She isn’t sure if he means afraid of him, of this crew, or of Snoke. Maybe it doesn’t matter. She has the same answer, regardless.

Rey shakes her head _no_ , slowly blinking, waiting for a reaction. Any reaction that will let her know if she’s to live through the day.

“You should be,” the captain says. He gets to his feet, shadows darkening his features once again, and he backs away from her, closed off once again.

He lingers for a moment longer at the foot of the stairs, like he’s not sure if he’s finished his interrogation, but then he leaves her, the door open, and climbs the stairs above deck, two at a time, leaving her confused and abandoned once again, without any indication that her plan to keep his interest is working.

* * *

 

One of the crew comes below deck a short time later, hands her a tin filled with water.

He’s the man she cut when they discovered her, his shoulder now bandaged. Badly. It’s drinking water this time, and she guzzles it all without asking questions.

When she hands back the tin, he eyes her suspiciously, but she holds still when she sees he has a key in his hand. Relieved, she holds out her wrists, palms up in surrender, and he releases her from the shackles, careful not to touch her or get too close.

He turns to the steps but pauses at the foot when she doesn’t follow, rubbing at her raw wrists uncertainty.

“The Captain has requested you in his quarters. Keep up.”

* * *

 

When she’s deciding if she should knock, the door is pulled free and a shorter man with dark hair exits, nervously tipping his head in her direction and disappearing again.

The door is left open, and Rey won’t waste the opportunity to stand there, peering into this world she’s gotten herself into.

“Honestly, Ren. Do you know the cost of feeding an extra mouth for a month? You’ve not properly thought this through.” This is the man who held a knife to her throat yesterday, the quartermaster—Hux. “It’s irrelevant that she wants an audience with Captain Snoke. We have no obligation to provide a favor to a girl who cut one of our men and found her way aboard this ship without permission. How can we trust her?”

“She won’t be left unattended,” the captain says. He’s leaning against a shelf piled with more books than Rey has seen in her lifetime, maybe forty of them.

Captain Ren looks up, sensing her standing at the doorway. When he realizes something has caught the captain’s eye, Hux looks over too from where he’s sitting opposite the heavy, wooden desk piled with maps and silver navigation instruments, boots resting casually on the edge of it as if he sits this way everyday.

“Oh, excellent.” Hux raises his arms in exasperation, gesturing toward her. “She’s here— _left unattended._ ”

“Come in. Close the door.”

Rey does, and it creaks heavily on the hinges when she pushes it shut. She stands just inside, spine straight, back to the door, itching for the hilt of the knife in her hand.

Hux places his boots on the floor, leans forward on his elbows and regards Rey with disdain, an intolerable interruption to his routine.

“What will you do with me?” Rey asks, tired of listening to the heavy beat of her own heart against her ribs.

Hux’s lip raises at that. He doesn’t like that she’s forward, that she speaks out of turn. He rises from his seat, coming toward her in a few long strides. His gaze is apprazing, curious—but also underlined with a need to intimidate her, show her he’ll not be outmaneuvered, and above all, make clear that he’s annoyed by Captain Ren’s curiosity with her.

Hux doesn’t touch Rey, but he pushes into her space, hot breath against her face. “Since our Captain has taken pity on you, you shall not suffer a public execution this day—as I have advised. You’ll have more work to do if I’m to be convinced you should live into tomorrow though, so I suggest you begin with what you’ll offer me, _this crew_ in exchange for protection, food, and shelter until we reach Nassau in six weeks time. These things _do not_ come free.”

Rey will do what is asked of her. Passage to Nassau means everything now, and this is a test. Hux needs to know what she’s willing to pay, and wants her to offer something of herself. Feeling the panic rise up, Rey looks to the captain, but he only looks curious too—about what Nassau and finding Snoke is worth to her.

“Anything,” Rey breathes, cornered and shaking.

Rey keeps still, holding Hux’s gaze, stubbornly refusing to back down, even while her cheeks are coloring with embarrassment. She won’t cry. She won’t.

Hux gives her a slow appraisal, and Rey hates it. “Do you know what it’s like to suck a man’s cock—or to take one from behind? Let him come inside you, held open while it drips down your thighs. Do you know how it feels to give yourself in that way?”

Rey grits her teeth. “Perhaps you could demonstrate. I think you know more about taking cocks than I do.”

The captain raises his eyebrows, not expecting this, careful to keep the threatening smile at bay.

Hux crowds her to the door with a look of pure fury, and Rey is afraid when he only lets out a manic laugh, somehow pleased with her response. Rey is relieved until he’s holding her by the throat, pressing long fingers in until she can barely breathe.

Rey slams her head against the door and tries to keep still, calm, digs her fingers into the wood behind her, needing some traction.

“Hux,” the captain warns, but does nothing further to diffuse the situation. If the captain allows him to remain in control, she’s less convinced by his posturing. This is asserting dominance to cover for a wounded ego, nothing more.

Still smiling, Hux backs away. Rey swallows, keeping her back to the door while Hux returns to his seat near the captain’s desk.

“I don’t believe you’ll need a guard with that mouth of yours. The better you can remain out of my sight in the next six weeks, the more likely you’ll stay alive. What else can you offer this crew? And I don’t mean spreading your legs or opening your mouth.”

Rey tries to keep her eyes from lighting up, feeling as though she’s passed their test despite the odds. This is more than she anticipated, so she struggles to respond accordingly. “I can clean. I can—well, I cannot cook, but I can learn. The rigging—my father, he taught me to tie knots. I can sew. Repairing sails should be easy, I think, though I’ve never tried.  Also, my blade. I can use it.”

Hux’s eyebrows raise. “You won’t be getting that back. Out of the question. I don’t care if you’re somehow miraculously trained to wield a _broadsword_ , you won’t be part of any skirmish aboard this ship.”

The captain comes around to sit heavily on the edge of the desk, arms across his chest in contemplation. They’re touching casually, the captain’s ankle against quartermaster’s thigh, sharing space like it’s easy, like they do this all the time—speaking as one, even if it’s only Hux’s voice carrying the words.

Hux continues, “You’ll assist in the kitchen until we find a better use for you. You’ll sleep where we found you, amongst the cargo. If— _when_ we take a prize, you will remain below deck. I can’t have the men unfocused, or for you to become a liability. If you try something reckless, like raising a hand to one of the crew again—I will _not_ hesitate in killing you. You’ll receive no further warning.”

“And if someone lays a hand against me?” Rey peers at Hux with intention. Hux huffs a sigh, convinced she’s overreacting, but raises an eyebrow to Captain Ren, indicating for him to voice the last word on the matter.

“No man will touch you aboard this ship,” the captain says. “You have my word. Hux?”

Hux smiles, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “Captain.”

“We’ll take you to Nassau, but beyond that you’ll be on your own,” Captain Ren says.

It doesn’t make sense. Rey doesn’t understand why he’s being so generous, why either if them are.

“Why?” Rey says, voice shaking more than she means. She needs to understand.

“Show her,” Hux says, nodding.

Captain Ren is reluctant, but he leans forward to free his arms from his long jacket, lets it fall to the desk behind him. Slowly, he unbuttons the sleeve of his left arm, pulls the fabric up to his forearm, revealing his wrist. There, Rey is surprised to see something so familiar etched into his skin.

“Captain Snoke is no friend of ours,” Hux sneers.

The seven pointed star is there across the Captain’s wrist, the same raised brand that adorns her own.

Captain Ren has survived Snoke as well.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s clear from the beginning, Rey will need to cultivate Hux’s favor if she’s to retain Captain Ren’s. They move as one, captain and quartermaster—fire and spark, chaos and calculation, one bleeding into the other until there’s nothing left unshared. Rey commits herself to knowing them, their strengths and weaknesses—the cracks that separate one from the other, because there must be a point at which she can wedge herself between them and become indispensable. _There must be._ This will be the way she survives.

Hux is always present, keeping watchful eyes on his men while assessing their work. He’s critical but is surprisingly good at doling out praise too. He knows every man aboard the _Finalizer_ —their schedules, their skills, their personal loyalties. If Rey lets him, she suspects he’ll want to know everything of value from her as well, use it to manipulate her. That’s fine. Rey can use his need to pin her down to her advantage.

She’s escorted to the mess the next day, and Hux rattles off a list of chores she’s convinced he’s fabricated on the spot. The shorter man seen rushing from the captain’s quarters yesterday—Mitaka, Rey learns later, stands beside Hux, nodding in agreement, his loyalty spilling over in a near embarrassing display. He’s the regular cook, and she’ll assist him until they reach Nassau.

Toward the end of the lecture, Hux explains no man receives special rations or favors when it comes to food, not even the captain. This surprises Rey, but she tries not to let it show on her face. She’s not aboard a naval ship, she reminds herself. There are new rules to learn here.

This is followed by a moment of silence where Hux frowns at her, lip twisted as if he still doesn’t know what to make of her and is uncomfortable drifting within that unknown.

“Very well,” Hux says finally, back straightening when he feels her appraising his motives just as he’s appraising hers. “Get to work. You won’t want to keep the men waiting for their meal.”

Rey doesn’t have much experience cooking—that was always a servant’s job in her past life, but it’s mostly okay, mindless and boring peeling potatoes and boiling water, because that’s really all Mitaka lets her do. She doesn’t complain—knows this is more than she could have hoped for when she boarded this ship, and it’s far better than creeping about the ship in the darkness, living in fear of being discovered.

The men are enthralled with her presence at first, but she quickly disappears into the background once they are admonished more than once by Hux for getting too close, or for dropping a suggestive comment in her direction.

Rey quickly realizes the vantage in working the mess, and by the second evening she eagerly volunteers to serve the men their meals. This task consists of handing out wooden plates and stale biscuits and laddeling out rice and stew to the communal pots at the center of each mess hall table. The men are gossips and enjoy a good story. Rey always listens carefully while they eat without manners, telling boisterous tales in half-truths.

The subject of their stories often falls to one man—their captain. Rey always listens closest to these.

Captain Kylo Ren is ruthless the men say, unmatched with a sword in battle, his prowess reaching near mythical standards among the pirates of Nassau town and beyond. It’s something that Hux perpetuates, encourages while he stands above them, arms bracing the table while claiming he was there— _it’s true_ , he’ll say, before joining in with their laughter. Their contemplative expressions revealing the rest—not quite believing, but also wanting desperately _to believe_ , proud of their captain and these grand tales of valour.

Rey doesn’t think the story of Ren taking down a grizzly bear with only his strength is particularly true, and definitely doesn’t believe the one about him selling his soul to the devil to acquire the ability to read minds, but she doesn’t doubt the story of regularly keelhauling—dragging an enemy captain below the ship’s belly as a way of setting an example—to be true. This, he’s likely learned from Snoke who is notorious for such treatment of enemies.

Most of all, she’s curious about the rumor of Ren killing his own father. Rey doesn’t want to believe that of anyone—but she’ll admit that she’s learned little of Captain Ren from her own observations. He doesn’t take his meals with the men as Hux usually does and prefers to keep to himself in his captain’s quarters, only emerging when there are sails upon the horizon—a rarity upon open water—or there’s some internal trouble that requires more than Hux’s blunt, demanding orders to keep the men in line.

It makes sense.

If they fear what their captain is capable of—if he remains largely mysterious and aloof while Hux keeps them in line with the day-to-day chores aboard the _Finalizer_ , it makes for easy management of a group of murdering thieves and misfits. Bad men who do bad things but largely live as brothers between taking merchant vessels, always looking toward the next prize. Rey finds it fascinating, but does her best not to become complacent among them, or involved as more than an outsider looking in.

Another thing that remains clear in the three weeks that follow—these men are not her friends, and she’ll likely never see them again once they reach Nassau town.

* * *

 

At Hux’s request, Rey takes Ren his meal once the others are finished and the night shift has settled in. Usually she knocks, places the plate in front of him at the desk and turns to go without a word.

This night, he has a complicated book of maps turned to a page of a group of islands spread out before him. It may be New Providence Island, but Rey doesn't know enough about the region to know for sure. He’s jotting notes down with a quilled pen, various navigational instruments in front of him—and Rey lingers just for a moment, wondering if he’s stolen this book from a merchant ship or if he’s drawn these maps himself. Wonders if Snoke taught him navigation and she misses the shadow of her father doing the same, the metal of the sextant in her fist, a silvered compass to keep her centered with its quivering arrow always pointing north.

“If there’s something on your mind, just say it,” Ren says, not looking up from his work, the pen only leaving the paper to dip into the inkwell across the desk. This stretch reveals the brand across his wrist, tucked under his jacket sleeve. Rey presses her fingers into its twin upon her own.

“Why would Snoke brand you as well? I thought you were his apprentice.”

He had said Snoke only brands the single person left on a ship after it’s conquered. The survivor left to tell the tale.

He does look at her now, but his mouth remains an unreadable line. She expects to be dismissed and the words are ready on her tongue to call him out for suggesting she say what was on her mind in the first place.

Instead, Ren puts his quill down, leans back in his chair so only the back two legs touch the floor. “You first,” is what he says, tipping his chin toward her to indicate he’s interested.

It’s a challenge. He wants to know about her scar. An even trade of information in which both of them can learn something of value, that is—if both of them tell the truth.

Rey nods, agreeing, then hovers awkwardly until Ren kicks the chair opposite the desk with the toe of his boot. It scoots across the floor, an invitation for her to sit.

“My father was a Captain in the Royal Navy,” Rey begins, easing herself down into the chair gingerly, half expecting a knife across her throat for even this small a comfort.

Ren nods as if she’s confirming something he already suspected, encouraging her to continue. He’s listening, and Rey feels exposed, like she’s baring her soul to a stranger,  embarrassed that she hasn’t anticipated this, that he might be interested in her story at all, and hadn’t prepared a convincing lie. She’ll have no way of knowing if he’s telling her the truth in return.

“Snoke killed my father on a return journey to London from Boston, half a day from port. By chance, I was aboard his ship en route to London for family business. Our home was in Boston much of the year, but we made the return journey many times. My mother and sister were killed along with every member of crew—except one. Me. When he branded me, I looked into Snokes eyes and swore on my father’s grave I would avenge his death.”

Ren grunts in disbelief, dismissing her naivety, and Rey feels gutted. She won’t cry—tears for her father, for her mother and sister, are a rare thing these days and sometimes she worries she’s used them all up, that she won’t be able to cry anymore, ever. It’s not as comforting a thought as she once believed.

Rey says, “You don’t think I can do it.”

“You might see him in your nightmares, but you won’t ever know him. He’s not the kind of person you can kill _without_ knowing him.”

Rey frowns. She doesn’t want to know Snoke. Nothing makes her recoil more than thinking she might have to for any of this to work—that can’t be right.

“My father was a sugar farmer in the interior of New Providence Island. My mother—“ Ren pauses, blinks a moment like he’s remembering, or holding something back, blacking out a line from a script that he can’t bring himself to say. “They were killed when the pirates overran Nassau town. Snoke left me alive, cared for me through my teens, gave me this to remind me that I’ll always owe him my life. He left me alive for a reason, saw the potential in me. Gave me a chance to make something of myself.”

Rey can’t imagine Snoke _caring_ for Ren, not unless it benefited himself in the end. She's also surprised to learn Snoke killed Ren's father. It seems the rumor he'd killed his father himself isn't true.

“Hux said Snoke was no friend of yours.”

“No, but you can still owe a debt to someone you hate.” He says this quietly, like he’s implying Rey might owe him the same kind of debt for not killing her.

“You don’t owe him a thing,” Rey insists, burning with anger once again, for him, for _herself._

Ren shakes his head, takes the quill in hand once again, returns to his writing.

Rey stands, the conversation finished.

Once her back is turned, he says to her, “I owe him everything, and you’ll do well to remember that. I won’t help you kill him, but I won’t stand in your way either.”

* * *

 

There are sails upon the horizon, a single ship reported in the early hours of the morning.

When the call is made below, Rey has been awake for an hour already, working to prepare the coffee and warm the night’s meal again. Most of the men only eat in the evening, but more than a few of them have grown accustomed to Rey’s instance on warming the night’s food in the morning for any who may wish to eat then. It’s a small thing she’s learned to keep their favor, and the men that approach the pot of stew are always grateful now.

She asks one of the men, Wexley—the one she cut the first day—about the commotion. Never shy about offering more than he should in conversation, he tells her there are Spanish sails on the horizon. The captain will need to make a decision to pursue her or not. They rarely chase the Spanish merchants, Rey has learned, often they’re larger vessels that would outgun the _Finalizer_ without question. There seems to be buzz about this one though, some hope they’ll be allowed to pursue her. They haven’t taken a prize while Rey has been aboard. From what she gathers, this is a long time without, adding the two weeks before she arrived, it’s been more than a month.

Rey hasn’t been told not to, so she takes coffee to the captain’s quarters. Usually she leaves it outside his door and comes to retrieve it, empty, before lunch. Today, there is shouting beyond the door, and Rey turns away—not wanting to appear as if she’s eavesdropping, though she’ll admit to her curiosity. Hux is not often heard shouting at this time of day in the captain’s quarters. They must be discussing the Spanish ship spotted on the horizon.

The door suddenly opens to reveal Hux half dressed behind it, hastily doing up the buttons of his shirt while he’s still lecturing, shouted tones that do nothing to ease the tension building over the Spanish ship situation. Rey can’t see Ren, but Hux’s face is turned as if he’s speaking toward the bunk.

Rey was surprised to learn a quartermaster would be permitted to speak to a captain in this way, but there are many things that surprise her about Hux and Ren’s relationship.

“Oh, excellent.” Hux steals the coffee from Rey’s waiting tray, not looking surprised to see her, or embarrassed by his half-dressed state in the captain’s quarters. Rey tries hard not to imagine what they might have been doing before the shouting began. There are rumors of course, hard to avoid in their tight quarters, but Rey has tried to steer clear of them—always making her cheeks burn for even considering thinking of them.

“It was intended for the captain,” she corrects Hux, referring to the coffee.

Hux scowls at her, abandoning the buttons on his shirt for a drink of the scalding liquid, a defiant gulp that makes Rey sigh. He doesn’t look as if he rested very well, but it’s a small victory. “I thought you were instructed not to do any special favors for our captain. Coffee in the morning looks as if you’re seeking favoritism.”

“Though I very much doubt you would refuse similar treatment,” the captain grouses.

With the door opened wider now, the captain is sitting up, but still in bed, chest bare, a blanket covering his lower half where he’s sitting with his legs crossed, sleep rustled and calm despite the earlier one sided shouting. Rey turns to leave, heart beating faster. She had heard stories of men enjoying sexual pleasure from each other, of course—but this feels too intrusive, a brightly lit flame where she shouldn’t mistake its warmth for comfort. The flame will burn her for considering it to be anything else.

“Rey.”

She stops and turns, meets the eyes of the captain. They haven’t exchanged more than a few words since he affirmed his debt to Snoke.

“You hear the men talk at meals. If we refuse them a fight today, how will they receive it?”

“Poorly,” she replies honestly, trying not to appear surprised at being asked her opinion. “From my observations, it seems this is the longest they’ve gone without a prize in an age. They are restless without a victory.”

Hux nods, agreeing. He passes the coffee to Ren, and the two men drink from the same mug.

“I know she’s too large, this Spanish ship.” Ren looks to the distance, shaking his head. “We’ll lose men and will spend the coin we earn from her on ship repairs. More lost than gained.”

“I think holding them back with that explanation will likely be as detrimental as losing a few men in the fight,” Rey says but regrets it instantly, presuming the three of them to be having a conversation on the matter was a mistake. Her eyes dart between both men, but Hux is only nodding, while Ren looks contemplative, thumb running over his chin.

“Shall I inform the men?” Hux asks quietly.

“I want to see her first,” Ren replies, referring to the ship. He’s sliding his trousers on now with some measure of urgency, not fully comfortable with the idea, but warming to it all the same.

Rey smiles, satisfied that she’s contributed in some way. It isn’t an answer, but it’s more than enough to satisfy Hux into thinking it is and the men will follow suit.

The crew will take a prize this day.

* * *

 

Rey is told to stay below deck, but when the Spanish ship is anchored aside the _Finalizer_ for negotiations, she can’t help peeking through the railings leading below deck. The ship is similar in size to the _Finalizer_ and it’s unclear if they’re outgunned from her vantage. The deck is mostly cleared. The majority of the men are below with the gunners leaving a skeleton crew to man the sails, ready to throw over the rope ladders with a singer word from Hux at the first sign of distress.

After three of the _Finalizer_ ’s men walk across the gangplank bridging the two ships, Ren is over the side as well, hand resting across the pistol strapped to his chest. Hux is behind him, still aboard the _Finalizer_ , shouting orders to the gunners to remain steady for negotiations. His voice is calm, but Rey has come to recognize a particular strain and urgency behind his words as nervousness. Hux’s not as confident as usual, though Ren carries none of these same outward signs.

All eyes are on the deck of the smaller Spanish merchant ship. Though she can hear a mix of English and Spanish tones, Rey can’t hear what they’re saying or see what’s happening from here, can only look to Hux’s expression for any changes.

“You should stay below, like you were told,” Mitaka hisses, but he shoulders Rey over so he can peer up above deck too. She nudges him back, unwilling to give up her line of sight.

They both duck at a single shot fired, a brief blast of bullet and smoke. Rey can’t see who fired the gun. Then there’s a second and third shot fired. Hux shouts a crackling yell of, “All men, over the rails!” rushing forward himself as he he says it, drawing his own pistol.

There’s a momentous roar from below as the ladders are laid and the men pour from the _Finalizer_ to the Spanish ship like ants descending upon a meal.

They won’t fire the cannons while the captain is still aboard the other ship and risk getting him caught in the crossfire.

Orders are shouted while additional guns are blasted, one of them Hux’s. Rey can’t see who he’s shooting at, but there’s a snarl at his lip and furry in his eyes. Gunfire is followed by the clash of swords. One of the riggers takes a blow to the stomach before reaching the nearest ladder, and he falls near enough to the stairs that Rey watches him struggle to his knees, a hand across his middle, already covered in blood.

Despite Makita's protests, Rey rushes above deck, slides to a kneel at the rigger’s body and checks for a pulse. There’s so much blood seeping out of him, she looks into his glassy eyes and tries not to appear afraid. His pulse is weakening. He’ll not be alive much longer.

“Take him below deck,” she orders Mitaka. He can at least be comfortable while he bleeds out. Mitaka stares at the man, horrified, but also nods, understanding without needing to be told. When he drags the man under the arms toward the stairs, Rey takes his unfired pistol from his belt and crawls to the rails. She’s never fired a gun before, but her father had owned one—taught her how to disarm it a few times. She knows the mechanics of shooting, at least. The gun is already loaded—powder and bullet, so Rey cocks it and aims for a Spanish soldier coming for Hux, fires and hopes for the best.

She doesn’t hit the man, but he’s startled enough by the blast of wood and smoke at his feet that Hux has a chance to jab his sword through the soldier’s belly and twist with a ruthless sneer. Hux lets the man fall to the ground before he squints toward the direction of the bullet. He’s visibly startled to see Rey as the source. She expects him to shout at her to get below, but there isn’t any time for admonishing—

Captain Ren is on deck—emerging from the captain’s quarters below the quarterdeck with the Spanish captain in a headlock, blood pouring from a gash at the man’s hairline. Ren has a gun pointed at the Spanish captain’s temple.

He stands at the center of the deck so everyone can see and shoves the man to his knees. The skirmishes surrounding them come to a standstill while all eyes shift to the two captains.

Ren doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask the captain for any final words, just pulls the trigger—cold stare barely flinching when the man’s head blows apart—viscera and blood splattering the wooden floorboards with a sickening squelch. The body drops to the deck with a heavy thud.

With the captain dead, the battle is won.

Captain Ren orders the rest of the men found aboard the Spanish ship to be executed—no quarter, no prisoners. They’ve no use for unhonorable men, Ren says.

Rey sits with her back to the railing, but she doesn’t hold her hands to her ears like she wants to, blocking out the sounds of men pleading for their lives. She doesn’t need to witness the crew cutting the throats of each of the merchants and dragging the lifeless bodies overboard. She’s witnessed enough death, seen enough blood today.

The reality she’s dragged herself into reminds her who these men are, what they’re capable of, how they’re different from her in every way that matters. She holds her fingers to her wrist and feels the pulse beneath the brand, tries to keep her breathing even with every body smacking into the rolling ocean.

This is part of her journey too, the next step toward her goal.

* * *

 

It seems the fearless pirate captain Kylo Ren isn’t as immortal as his crew make him out to be.

While the _Finalizer_ ’s men work quickly to inventory the Spanish prize and repair critical damage to the sails, the captain brushes past her as she’s helping to carry some mess supplies below deck. He doesn’t explain, just says, “Follow me.”

Rey isn’t sure what to make of this request, but decides to follow anyway, her curiosity getting the better of her. The captain secures the door to his quarters behind them and shrugs off his heavy outer jacket. His face contorts then—pain from some kind of injury.

Instincts lead Rey toward him as he struggles, helps him sit in the chair opposite the desk where Hux is usually perched, where she confessed her story to him days ago. Once the jacket is removed, Rey can see the bloom of blood sticky and wet along Ren’s middle, further darkening the black of his shirt.

Rey stares. He must expect her to help him.

“Bring the basin,” he commands when she’s still standing there, stunned. She isn’t sure what’s more shocking—that he was able to hide this injury for a good twenty minutes while he sorted orders for the crew above deck or that he wants _her_ to help him tend to it.

“If I appear weak in front of them, the day will be for nothing,” he murmurs, guessing at what is troubling her thoughts.

“I’m _not_ your nursemaid,” is the only thing Rey can think to say in response, but she’s already helping him to shrug the tunic over his head.

“Understood,” Ren says, voice strained, grunting when he has to contort his body to remove it.

The sharp slice of a sword bisects his body. It isn’t deep enough to be life threatening, but it will likely scar. Rey eyes the edge of the middle of the wound, just above his heart, the rise and fall of his chest. She should stitch it together, just in case. She dabs at the wound with the clean water from the basin, and Ren hisses out a grunt of pain, steadying her hand with a bruising grip on her wrist.

“Honestly,” she breathes. “I just watched you blow a man’s head off without flinching. This shouldn’t cause you greater distress.”

“It stings,” Ren complains, not relaxed at all as she examines the wound. Lets his disordered hair fall into his eyes to hide his contorting expression.

There are heavy boots down the stairs, and Hux comes tearing through the door to the captain’s quarters.

“What have you done?” Hux accuses, doing nothing to conceal his distress, voice breaking with concern.

“I’m fine,” Ren insists, clearly wanting to avoid this very situation.

“You’re not _fine_. Have you seen the bloody trail you’ve left? I nearly gutted Mitaka for not telling me sooner you were injured. What were you thinking, not telling me?”

“I think he’ll be fine,” Rey tries. “Have we got needle and thread?”

“Why? What do you intend to do?” Hux looks horrified at the suggestion.

“This wound needs closing to stop the bleeding. Do you not see that?” Rey insists, gesturing to the cut. Hux comes to stand beside her, frowning. Rey swipes the cloth along Ren’s torso to free the last of the caked blood. Takes Ren’s hand to apply pressure to the cloth covering the wound.

“There’s a box on the bookshelf with some supplies. Check there,” Ren says, ignoring Hux.

Ren takes Hux by the forearm and urges him to sit on the desk's edge instead of hovering, their usual places reversed.

“Is the cargo secured?” Ren asks, gruff and pained, but obviously wanting Hux to focus on something other than Rey’s precise threading of the needle. She’s never stitched a man’s chest back together, but she can’t imagine it’s difficult as long as you’ve got the stomach for it.

“Twenty barrels of tobacco. Ten of grains. We’ve taken some books and their shipping manifests, the records from the captain’s quarters. We’ll need to examine them for leads when you’re well again.” Hux regards the needle, swallowing as if she might come near him with it. “I should go. Supervise the weight redistribution, the selection of crew members who will man our prize to Nassau.”

Rey had wondered if they would burn the Spanish ship or take it to Nassau with them. It would be a shame to destroy it.

“You should captain it,” Ren says.

Hux looks conflicted on whether he should. He wants it though, the command of a ship to himself, Rey can see it in his eyes.

Quieter, Hux says, “I had not considered parting from you, especially while you’re injured. Sailing Master Davies will do fine as captain for the two weeks that remain before reaching Nassau.”

“No. I want you do it. We’ll sail in tandem at night when it’s calm. When we’re able. The redistribution of weight will help.”

Rey focuses on the needle she'll soon use to stitch up the wound when Hux drags a careful hand through the strands of hair falling from the tie, tucks them behind Ren’s ear.

Hux whispers, “I’ll do as you ask, Captain.”

“Captain,” Ren whispers back, tipping his head in agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took far longer than I anticipated to get together. I'm so sorry! The last part should come quicker as real life is starting to slow down to a manageable pace again.

The cargo hold is so full of salvage from the prize, Rey has no space to sleep as she had been, huddled on the floor with a blanket. It made little sense to her why they wouldn’t leave the cargo aboard the Spanish ship, but Mitaka had explained that redistributing the weight would allow both ships to travel at relatively the same speeds—something they wouldn’t have achieved without it. It’s a risk taking both ships without a full crew to captain either, so if they run into trouble before reaching Nassau, they’ll need both ships to defend the men aboard. This way, if they lose one, the prize is not entirely lost.

Rey sighs, pulling the blanket free from between two new wooden barrels. She folds it over at the foot of the stairs and curls up uncomfortably, chilled by the breeze coming from the deck above. She won’t sleep near the crew at the other end of the hull, but exhausted as she is from helping with cargo all day, one of their hammocks is especially appealing. She trusts some of the men but not all. Hammock or no hammock, she would likely not sleep well.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because she awakens to her name. The captain is calling her softly from three steps above on the stairs. Rey rises, back aching from the uncomfortable position, blinking up at his shadowed silhouette.

“Rey,” Captain Ren calls. “You look miserable curled up like that. My bandages need changing.”

He leaves her to frown up at him. It isn’t exactly a request, but there’s little room for her to refuse either.

Trailing him to the captain’s quarters with the blanket held to her shoulders, Rey changes his bandages in shadowed candlelight, and is secretly pleased Ren has acknowledged it too difficult to do himself. She presses a fingertip into the gash along his abdominals, and Ren flexes the muscle and grunts softly, still tender to any touch—it’s healing nicely though, and she’ll need to clip the stitches free in a few days so it won’t scar as badly.

When she’s finished, Ren says, “You’ll sleep here tonight.” Shrugging his shirt on again, he winces at the pull against his middle and leaves it unbuttoned.

She must look confused, because he says, “You can’t sleep curled around the stairs like that, and I don’t trust the men to keep to themselves if you sleep near to them. This is safer. I can keep an eye on you this way.”

“They won’t—make assumptions?”

Ren huffs, sliding into his desk chair with care, keeping his back squared away from it to avoid slumping into the injury. “They make plenty of assumptions about my private life and those have nothing to do with you. I stopped caring about assumptions when Hux taught me to use them to my advantage.”

It’s hard remembering this world they live in is so different from the one she’s come from. She’s adapting though, so decides to take this offer in stride. Refusing a comfortable place to sleep in relative safety would be foolish.

She brings her blanket and removes her boots, stays clear of the bunk, and takes the cushioned seat below the bay window. It’s not quite long enough for her to stretch out fully, but it’s far more comfortable than the floor near the stairs, or the cargo hold where she had been sleeping before taking the Spanish merchant ship.

When her eyes finally close, Ren is still seated at his desk, writing with a quilled pen and soft candlelight for company, a frown of concentration shadowed between his brows.

She thinks to say something about how bad it is for his eyesight to write under those conditions, but drifts off to sleep before she can decide how to phrase it without sounding like her mother.

* * *

 

Rey assumes she’s dreaming when she hears Hux in the night, a soft conversation between captains. Hux has been aboard the Spanish ship for the past three days, captaining her—a trailing shadow to the _Finalizer_. They must have managed to anchor both ships to each other to allow the crews to pass between them in the night, because when she wakes, Hux and Ren are curled around each other in Ren’s bunk, trousers on but chests bare. Ren has his face turned into the back of Hux’s neck, a strong arm encircling Hux’s torso.

It’s one thing for two men to share sexual pleasure and another thing entirely to share affection. Rey never imagined one might find genuine affection in a place like this.

She slides on her boots and leaves the room as quietly as she’s able, sets out to start on breakfast for the crew.

It’s too early to disturb men who’ve slept so little in the last few days.

* * *

 

Rey finds an old leather-bound notebook among the recovered manifests from the Spanish prize. Half the pages are filled with cryptic, half-finished phrases in sprawling Spanish, all written by a dead man. Rey can’t read Spanish, but Ren can. When she shows it to him, he only raises his eyebrows as he reads through the lines, quickly losing interest. He presses the book back into Rey’s hands and says, “It’s meaningless. Don’t waste your time. Put it back with the recovered manifests, and I’ll go through them before we reach Nassau.”

Rey holds the notebook to her chest, frowning at Ren’s assessment. It wasn’t meaningless to the person who took the time to write it.

“If it means nothing, then I can have it,” she tries.

Ren stops and stares back at her over his shoulder, narrows his eyes at her. She expects him to raise his voice to her, repeat his order with the same tone he uses with the Sailing Master when he’s too slow to keep up with Ren’s very specific navigational instructions.

But after a moment that leaves Rey feeling exposed and scrutinized, as if Ren might actually have the ability to read minds as the crew suspect of him, he simply says, “Fine,” and moves past her with a sweep of his long coat, not giving the matter any more of his time.

Rey stands straighter, keeping a firm grip on the notebook.

“I’m also taking a quill and ink,” Rey calls after him, feeling emboldened by his consent. He waves her off, continuing up the stairs to the decks without looking back. He doesn’t say _no_ , so Rey interprets it as tacit permission.

Mid-day, when it’s hottest and the work of preparing the evening meal hasn’t yet begun, Rey takes to sitting with her legs crossed on the railing that separates the navigation wheels and the quarterdeck. There’s a spot slightly aft where the furrowed canvas of the mainsails create suitable shade when the wind direction is steady.

She writes. It took her awhile to get started in the beginning, lamenting the possibility of using up all of the pages and then what might she do? She decides she’ll just have to ask for more paper if that happens. Ren must have some.

She gets better at writing her thoughts down without thinking about them first--a skill she never had interest in as a child. At first she only writes about Snoke—what she’ll do or say to him when she meets him. How she’ll kill him in increasingly ludicrous ways. That only lasts for so long before she’s writing about her family—her father’s proud smile, his straight back as he stood aboard a ship much like this one, the way his woolen officer’s uniform would look after a good cleaning and ironing just before he would take his leave from them once again.

She also keeps notes about her day, about the men she’s come to know aboard this ship, about Mitaka's simmering contempt for everyone aboard this ship, Wexley’s kind heart, about the fondness she sees in Ren’s eyes when he looks at Hux across the deck. She wonders if he knows how obvious it is, if he even cares. She writes about their loyalty to each other. The stories they tell at dinner.

Her writing keeps her centered in a way she’s never had before. Writing was always a chore set by her tutor, keeping her in a chair rather than swimming in the pond, exploring the forest for rare plants, sinking her toes into warm earth.

She’s writing one day, lost in her own thoughts while trying to remember the phrasing of some ridiculous story Wexley told at dinner last night, when a second shadow settles over her. Rey looks up to find Hux leaning against the railing, taking an odd break from movement while he’s aboard the Finalizer and not the Spanish ship—he doesn’t often acknowledge her when she’s quietly writing, as if she blurs into the woodwork while she’s there.

There must be something on his mind then.  

She hasn’t seen Hux in three days, but he doesn’t begin with a greeting, just says, “I never thanked you for saving my life when we took on the Spanish ship. That sailor was distracted by your lucky shot.”

It’s so unexpected, Rey doesn’t know what to say at first, just blinks at him, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare. She shifts her body until his shoulders are blocking the sunset behind him.

“It was for selfish reasons, of course,” Rey says. “If you die, then I very much doubt I can finish what I’ve started.”

Hux nods, already knowing all of this. “What do you intend to do once we reach Nassau?”

Ah, this is the real reason for the apology. Hux must be unable to come with any logical way she could complete her promise of killing Snoke. He’s curious to hear her plan—even if he remains skeptical of her ability to complete it at all. Rey is pleased he is interested. She can definitely use that to her advantage.

Rey unfolds her legs, and stretches them, lowers herself from the railing.  Hux doesn’t step aside, keeps just as close, waiting for an answer.

“Ren says I must know Snoke before I’m to kill him.” Rey smiles. “I intend to know him.”

Rey has thought a lot about this lately and has decided Ren’s advice to be genuine. After a month aboard the _Finalizer,_ Rey now understands how carefully Ren chooses his words when speaking with her, and she knows to pay attention when he does.

Hux chuckles, crossing his arms at chest. “Foolish girl. You’d be better to forget this wild idea that you’d even get close enough to _know_ him. Ren has known him since he was in his teens, and it took him years to break free. What makes you think you’ll fare any differently?”

Rey sees an opportunity here to learn something of value, something she’s sure Ren would never offer freely, though she’s not at all certain Hux will give her any more than he would. “How did he break free? Why would Snoke let him go?”

Hux’s lip curls, and he doesn’t speak at first, cautious of giving away too much before he’s received anything of value from her. “Well, we’re not technically free from him at all. No one is free from him in Nassau, but he knows Ren would never betray him, and becoming captain of the _Finalizer_ , giving him that much freedom—that took some convincing.” Hux looks away, eyes surveying the deck for any men not doing their fair share of the work. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.” He says slowly, but not as if he’s sorry for saying any of it.

“Why do you want to tell me anything at all?” Rey says, but what she really means is: _Why am I still alive?_

Hux smiles, pleased by her line of questioning. “There’s an agreement between them. When the _Finalizer_ was handed over, Ren agreed to give Snoke fifty percent share of all prize coin or goods we bring into Nassau. He controls many of the captains operating out of Nassau in this way, but Ren doesn’t believe he can do any of this without Snoke’s guidance. I disagree. He’s ready, you see? I want to be free of Snoke as much as you do—and Snoke’s death is the only way Ren will see what I’ve known for years, that he doesn’t need lesser men standing in his way to rule the seas. We’ll do it together, _without_ Snoke.”

Letting Rey try is in his best interest. If Snoke is killed, Ren is free—and Hux himself, by extension.

Rey steps up to him, toe to toe, refusing to back down, because if he truly wants Snoke dead, he’ll offer up his help regardless if Ren stands in his way.

“This is the part when you tell me something useful, Hux.”

Hux nods, and Rey is thrown by how easy this is. If she had known, she would have asked for Hux’s help sooner. Hux lowers his head to whisper in a conspiring tone. There’s a new coating of sunburn layered over tightly packed freckles along his collar from a long day in the sun. She wonders if his skin is hot to the touch, if it might burn her as well if she stroked over it.

“Snoke has a fondness for Nassau’s whores found at the local brothel. It’s a shame you’re not one of them.” He pauses, searching for Rey’s understanding. “When his crew is anchored in Nassau, you’ll find him at the town brothel most nights. It’s the only public space you may be able to get close enough to him—and it happens that the brothel madam is a friend of mine.”

* * *

 On Rey’s forty-third day aboard the _Finalizer,_ Nassau is spotted by the crow’s nest lookout. When the call is sent below decks, Rey rushes to the rails, eager to have a glimpse of Nassau. The crew are already going about their jobs with renewed enthusiasm, happy to get the ship to land as soon as possible.

Rey squints at the horizon, but doesn’t see much. There’s a faint rim of darker blue shaded differently than the ocean that surrounds it, but she can’t be sure if that’s what she’s supposed to be looking for or not. Disappointed, she steps away to find Wexley so she can ask how long it will take to reach Nassau.

To her surprise, Captain Ren is behind her, a spyglass in his hand. He uses the railing to steady his hand and peers through it. “We’ll reach land by sundown,” he confirms without Rey needing to ask the question. Without a word, he passes the spyglass to Rey.

With a smile, she takes it and her heart beats faster when she peers through the spyglass, finally able to make out the blurred edge of land against the blue of the sea.

When she hands the spyglass back to Ren, his attention is starboard, where the Spanish ship is nearly level with the nose of the _Finalizer._ They can both make out Hux at the quarterdeck, giving orders to the Spanish ship’s sailing master—a spyglass in his own hands.

* * *

When they reach Nassau, Rey stays back with the last of the crew. Takes one of the last boats to shore. She’s careful to keep her hair tied back and her hat down low, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The beaches before Nassau town are buzzing with activity. Two other ships are anchored in the harbor, both smaller than the _Finalizer_ and the Spanish ship. It seems the word has traveled already of Captain Ren’s victory over the Spanish ship and there are already questions of what will be done with the new ship—who might permanently captain her among the pirates of Nassau town.

Rey makes her way through the narrow streets of Nassau to the brothel without much delay—there isn’t time to waste. The air is hot and heavy—the kind that makes it hard to get a full breath while the sweat collects along your brow for simply moving.

Rey already misses the breeze from the ocean aboard the _Finalizer._ She finds the brothel easy enough, tucked down a winding alleyway lined with two storey cement buildings with sturdy wooden door frames and open slatted windows.

The brothel is full at this time of evening, its tables lined with thick melting candles. A staircase leads to the second floor with an interior balcony lined with six smaller bedrooms. Rey has never set foot inside a brothel, so the state of half-dressed girls of all shapes and sizes is something she expected, but wasn’t prepared for—not exactly. She can’t help the blush that gathers at her cheeks when one of the girls asks her if she’d like a drink.

The madam, a smiling woman with bright blue eyes and close cropped blond hair isn’t difficult to find—she stands out among the women for her height and style of hair. Rey doesn’t expect she’ll be someone to easily cross, and Rey imagines she would be more than capable of keeping the hardened men that circulate her establishment in line.

“You’re a friend of Armitage Hux, the Quartermaster of the _Finalizer_?” she asks skeptically after Rey had introduced herself.

“Yes,” Rey insists. She doesn’t think this madam, Phasma, believes her. Phasma pours her a mug of ale, slides it across the bar top and regards her with a raised eyebrow. “Hux told me you’re always looking for girls,” Rey explains again, losing confidence by the moment. She spent six weeks aboard a pirate ship, and Phasma remains more intimidating than all of those men combined.

Phasma laughs, disbelieving Rey means to offer herself as a whore. “You don’t look the type, my friend.” Phasma takes the brim of Rey’s hat and settles it a little lower on her head. “You look as though you’re just as likely to cut a man open as you are to let him fuck your cunt for coin.”

Rey looks at her, summoning all of her courage. “I need coin. I have nothing,” which isn’t really a lie, even if she’s not telling the whole truth. She refuses to tell this woman, this stranger, the real reason she needs to pose as a whore in a brothel.

“Where do you come from, Rey?”

“I’m from nowhere.”

“Well _Rey from Nowhere_ , how about I give you a room for the night and we call it even?”

* * *

The next morning, Phasma slides into the chair opposite Rey, takes a long drag from a hand rolled cigarette.

“Did you sleep well, Rey from Nowhere?”

Rey nods, thoroughly uninterested in smalltalk with someone unwilling to help her. She has two choices—tell Phasma the real reason she’s here and hope for the best, or try to find Hux and beg for help. She hates both of these options, so she’s left with self loathing and inaction as alternatives.

The brothel is quiet, only an elderly woman is awake—cleaning up after the night. Rey doesn’t smile at her, stares down at her empty mug, not happy about having to rethink her plan. None of this is turning out the way she had intended.

Phasma calls over the elderly cleaner, and to Rey’s surprise, she leaves a pile of clothes in front of Rey, nodding at Phasma before leaving again. A silky robe—a set of underthings in an obscene shade of blue-black, all lined with lace. Sheer stockings and a corset that looks like it will be especially painful to wear. Rey hasn't missed the corsets one bit.

“You’ll have to look the part if you’re to pull off what you intend to do.”

“How did you find out?” Rey sputters. There are only two people who know her real reason for coming here.

“You thought Hux would let you walk into this blind? He’s quite fond of you, if you didn’t already know.” Phasma smiles, leaning back in her chair and propping her crossed ankles on the tabletop. Rey almost asks what she could possibly mean by that, but Phasma continues before she can ask. “He told me what you’re up to. As long as you don’t implicate me or any of my girls, I’m willing to turn my eye to your intentions—give you a temporary job without obligation to suck any man’s cock. Hux will pay for your board. Rumor is the _Finalizer’s_ crew have pockets bursting with coin, so I know this won’t be an issue. I assume you’ll be able to defend yourself or talk yourself out of any tough situations? Hux insisted you could.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you,” Rey says, gathering the borrowed clothing to her chest. She understands. This is only a room and a chance to play the part. Phasma can’t offer her protection as well. It’s more than enough.

“Many people have tried before you. What makes you so sure you’ll succeed?”

Rey has spent some time thinking about what makes her different, why she’s this determined despite everyone telling her she won’t succeed.

“I have to try. I have nothing left to lose,” Rey says, feeling silly for saying it, but her voice is shaking with honesty.

Phasma nods with a smile, satisfied with this answer.

* * *

Two days later, Ren comes for her, ignoring the eyes that follow him across the brothel’s arched doorway—the young and handsome captain of the _Finalizer_ , fresh from a long journey across the Atlantic with full pockets—he would be a grand catch for any girl in this place. He’s angry, Rey notes, and he fixes that anger on Rey as soon as he spots her. There are no other men from the _Finalizer_ inside the brothel, no one to potentially recognize her. She’ll be safe to play this off.

Once he’s caught Rey along the forearm and pulled her to him, he growls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Rey snarls back, trying to pull free until he correct himself and lets her go. He doesn’t meet her eyes, an apology of sorts for letting his temper get the best of him.

Rey stands tall, hand on hip. She barely comes past his shoulder in heeled shoes, but she won’t let him intimidate her here, even if she suddenly feels exposed while wearing a corset and robe—far more skin showing than the last time they saw each other.

Rey says, “I’m doing my job, sir. Have we met previously? I’m sorry if you were less than memorable.”

Ren just stares at her, blinking. She had hoped he would play along, but it seems he’s not caught on yet. She sighs and takes his arm in hand, tugs him along to the back corner of the brothel in a reversal of their roles moments ago. They’re attracting some attention from the regulars as well as the brothel girls, several of which are leaning over the railings from above trying to appear casual about eavesdropping, many with jealous, envious stares toward the new girl for catching Captain Ren’s eye. They’ve no idea.

She directs him to sit on a lounge sofa and drapes herself across his lap to make it look like he’s here as a paying customer willing to negotiate for an hour of her time. His back stiffens, not expecting this, but he holds her at the hip. It borders on a possessive grip that has Rey rolling her eyes. No matter how she came to this place, the debt he might owe him, she won’t tolerate his possessiveness. He hasn’t helped her with this part of the plan and he doesn't own her.

“I have coin. You don’t have to do this,” Ren murmurs, eyes shifting across the room, making sure they’re far enough away from prying ears. Rey thinks he should be more worried about the girls than the pirates. Phasma has eyes and ears everywhere.

“I’m not sucking anyone’s cock, if that’s what you’re implying, and I don’t need your coin. Phasma knows my plan. I’m simply waiting for my window of opportunity.”

“Snoke’s not here.”

Ren’s hot hand squeezes her hip, and Rey finds she doesn’t dislike it there, despite the impression he’s giving to the others. It feels strange to want to be touched after so long spent alone, something she’d nearly forgotten how to want—Rey swallows, shoving those thoughts down. They only serve to cloud her mind of her goal.

“Snoke’s anticipated return is in a few days. I have to make this look believable if I’m to convince him to let me closer.” And to make it look believable, Rey has to play her part. She runs her fingertips over Ren’s cheek, and he follows her touch backward as she sinks them into his dark hair. “You said I had to know him first.”

Then it all seems to click for Ren. He recoils, visibly shaken by what’s she’s implying will happen. He digs his hand into her side until she slides off his lap and falls to the seat next to him. It takes a moment to right herself, up on her heels so she’s level with his murderous stare. He doesn’t like her plan. Not at all.

“This isn’t the way.” He shakes his head, angry, but also petulant—a boy who hasn’t gotten his way. She wonders how he saw this happening, what he thought she would do after setting foot on Nassau. He made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t willing to help her beyond that point. She wonders if he knows Hux had been the one to arrange this.

“Phasma says he takes one girl as his own upon his return. Takes her as his for the duration of his stay. Sometimes a week, sometimes two. _This is the way._ ”

Ren folds his hands together and cracks his knuckles one at a time, like he’s itching to pound his fist into someone’s jaw and glares at anyone who glances their way, unwilling to accept her plan. Rey is nearly ready to leave him. His disapproval means little now. She won't change her plan to suit him.

“Let your hair down,” Ren says quietly, calmer than Rey might have expected.

Rey doesn’t understand, but Ren is gently reaching for her braid anyway, pulling the tie loose. “It’s what he likes. Dark hair, loose and long. Don’t show too much skin. He hates the girls who throw themselves at him.”

She lets Ren pull her hair free, drag his fingers through the soft waves so it’s curled and loose around her shoulders.

“Despite my protests, Hux has been keeping an eye on me. He said you’d never come here without prompting.”

“Yes,” Ren agrees, nodding.

“I don’t want your protection or his. This is on me. I won’t have you implicated in the aftermath. I already owe you too much.”

Ren shakes his head. He swallows once, takes her wrist between his fingers, thumb across her pulse point, under the leather cuff covering the scar. It’s more intimate than any touch Rey has ever known, and she stares at his hand, where they’re connected.

She doesn’t know if he’s looking her in the eye when he says, “You don’t owe me anything. Not now and not ever.”

She believes him.

* * *

When Rey leaves her room in the morning to fetch something to eat, strong arms grab her around the middle. She’s breathless for an instant, afraid, tries to reach for the knife strapped to her thigh, but a quick hand stills the movement.

When she continues to struggle, the man says, “It’s me, relax.” Hux.

Rey shoves at his chest when he releases her and he stumbles backward into the banister behind him. He stays where he is, sits upon the railing casually, but drags her by the wrist until she’s standing between his thighs.

“I have to play my part as well,” he teases. “Can’t let a whore get the best of me.”

“You already have,” Rey sneers. “I’m alive aren’t I?”

“Except, you aren’t a whore.”

“And you aren’t interested in women, so don't waste my time.”

Hux laughs, outwardly enjoying this exchange. “I’ll let you go, but only if you listen. I have some information that will be of interest.”

“Fine,” Rey agrees. She wrenches her arm free, and Hux lets her go.

“Snoke’s ship has docked this morning. He’ll be at the tavern by twilight to settle his accounts and have a meal. After his men are full on pork and rum, he’ll come to the brothel to chose his girl for the week. He’s a man of routines. These things won’t change.”

Rey knew Snoke’s ship was sighted at dawn. The girls keep up with the gossip in anticipation of clients. The details about his routine are helpful though.

“You should stay out of it,” Rey says, echoing Ren’s wishes.

Hux raises an eyebrow, not expecting this.

“I want you to succeed. If I don’t have to be directly involved—I still win.  Ren and I both win. You killing him helps Ren be free of his demands, his abusive past, all of it, and we’ll have Nassau under our control when that happens. If you die in the process, that’s no concern of mine.”

“I don’t care if you’re in this for selfish reasons. I’ll get what I want, and if that means shifting some kind of power in your direction, I don’t care. Control of Nassau means nothing to me.”

“What happens after you kill him?”

It's a curious question, one Rey hadn't anticipated. Truthfully, it's one she doesn't intend to put much thought into because it hardly matters what comes after. It's likely she won't live to see it anyway.

“I suppose we all live happily ever after,” is what she says, trying to keep the melancholy from her voice. 

Hux takes her hand, gently this time and smiles before kissing her knuckles. 

* * *

Snoke approaches the brothel just as Hux said he would, but there’s also one glaring difference.

Ren is with him, slightly behind, but part of the crew of men that accompany him. There’s a muscular man with a deep scar across his eye that trails Snoke’s side, appearing as the second in command—Snoke’s quartermaster. They unload their various weapons at the entrance, swords and pistols. Phasma doesn’t allow weapons in her brothel, except those the girls carry, of course.

Rey watches them from the balcony above, and she’s surprised Snoke doesn’t look more intimidating. The image she holds of him in her mind, a phantom from her nightmares, always rendered larger than life, a snarling, disfigured ghoul. Here, he’s just a man—and a frail one at that, a sunken scar at his forehead and jaw leaving his face ugly and malformed, pale, nearly hairless skin, and a limp to his step from broken bones never healed properly.

Rey’s confidence builds. She can do this. There isn’t any other way.

Snoke’s party sits at a wide table toward the back, and the man with the scar is pulled away almost immediately by one of the girls—a busty blond that never stops talking about a man by the name of William—this must be him. That serves her well. The table is down to only four men, Ren included. Phasma nods in Rey’s direction. The table is all hers.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Snoke says to Rey when she offers them a round of drinks, and Ren’s near-snarling reaction to this question is so obvious, Rey’s cheeks burn with anger. _Don’t blow this for me_ , she wants to say.

“My name is Rey, sir.”

“You’re new here, Rey? I haven’t seen you before.” He reaches up to glide a knobby hand through the strands of her loose hair, and Rey feels nauseous. She glances down at the leather cuff covering her wrist. It’s still concealing the scar, and Snoke doesn’t recognize her. Good. That was her greatest fear in this plan of hers.

“Yes, sir,” Rey says, keeping her eyes down as she pours their drinks, only raising an eyebrow toward Ren. He's ignoring her.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” Snoke says, purring in a way that he must think will be appealing to her. It takes everything in her to smile at Snoke. 

“Not her. She’s mine,” Ren blurts out, clearly forgetting his place and her plan. Rey is so startled, she nearly protests aloud. Ren’s possessive behavior will ruin this for her. She’s so angry she can barely look at him when he drags a chair next to him and instructs her to sit down. She does numbly, and tries to keep herself from leaning away when Ren hooks his arm around her neck, pulling her closer to him. He’s solid and warm, though. Despite her frustration with him, she feels she can breathe a little easier with him acting as a physical barrier between her and Snoke.

Snoke laughs, throwing his head back menacingly. “So you’re back on women, Ren?” He raises his mug and Ren gathers his own, clinks them together in celebration. “That skinny, conniving quartermaster of yours has lost his inexplicable charm. I never did like him, the rabid cur.”

Rey waits for Ren to draw his knife. He wouldn’t stand for anyone threatening Hux, but Ren doesn’t say anything, just takes a long gulp of his drink to mask the twitch in his jaw and sits back his chair, keeping Rey close. This isn’t like him—he’s playing at something else here, and Rey is curious, no longer convinced he’s intending to derail her plan. He does know Snoke better than anyone.

After another round of drinks and too much inconsequential chatter, Snoke says, “I’ll take her off your hands tonight, Ren. I’ll pay her handsomely of course. It would be a shame for her to miss out on that. Don’t you agree?”

Rey is stunned at this turn of events. It appears that Ren really does know Snoke, and then it occurs to Rey: anything that belongs to Ren must hold ultimate appeal for Snoke. Ren exists as some kind of idealized version of Snoke from his youth, the young pirate king with everything laid out before him if he'll just reach for it. Snoke has leeched off of Ren, off of all of them, for long enough.

Before she can stand, Ren pulls her toward him. A big hand closes around her throat, but it's more a caress than intimidation, and Rey finds the warmth of it reassuring. She doesn’t want him to let go, holds her own hand around his wrist to keep him near.

“I’m here," he whispers, cheek to cheek. "I’m not going anywhere. Hux is here, too. If Snoke touches you, run. Phasma will be just outside the door, and we’ll come for you. We won’t let him hurt you. I promise you that, Rey.”

She laughs him off, feigning innocence as if he's making suggestive comments instead of closely guarded reassurances. Her heart is pounding, and she is so deeply grateful he’ll remain near if she needs him, if she needs them _both_.

"This is your only chance. _Take it._ "

“Thank you,” she whispers back, brushing her thumb over the scar at his wrist.  Louder and mostly for Snoke, she says, “It’s just for the night, Captain Ren. Madam Phasma will find you someone else just as nice, I’m sure.”

Ren nods, releasing her to Snoke for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for death and blood and violence and filthy threesome porn...None of this should surprise you if you've followed this story so far. XD

Captain Snoke is dead.

The knife falls from Rey’s hand, and she stares at the display before her with numb fascination. Snoke bleeding out upon the bed, hand sealed around his own throat to stop the gush of blood pouring from the slash at his throat, the blood flooding between his fingers—unstoppable, inevitable.

It wasn’t difficult in the end. Surviving a month and a half aboard the  _ Finalizer _ proved the greater challenge.

There’s nothing after this.

Rey never thought she would would survive it.  

She drops to her knees at the end of the bed, body limp and head swimming. Her hand sloshes through something sticky and wet, more blood. Snoke’s blood. She falls backward from the bed, crawls away to press her back to the wall.

The panic fills up the empty places, a welling rush of it overpowering the numbness from moments ago.

The bedroom door opens and shuts with a harsh scrap of wood. Rey flinches, and someone shouts her name.

It’s clearer the second time.  _ Hux. _ God, she just wants him to hold her tightly against his chest so she can pretend she’s strong enough to withstand the hysteria. Or,  _ no. _ He should go—he’ll be implicated in this. It will be easy for her to disappear, but for him,  _ for Ren, _ it won’t be as easy.

“Rey.  _ Fuck. _ Rey, can you hear me? We have to leave this place.”

Hux leaves the room without her— _ he’ll be back, of course he’s coming back _ —she recites to herself. He leaves Rey to stare at Snoke’s lifeless body while she’s curled around her knees pulled close to her body, letting the emptiness swallow her whole without anything to hold onto. Rey can’t look at the mess she’s made anymore, shifts her attention to her shaking hands and finds the blood splattering them isn’t any easier to focus on.

There’s a quite argument happening just outside the room—Phasma and Hux.  _ He’s still here. He hasn’t left yet. _ Hux will pay her off to keep this quiet, to clean up the body after they’ve gone, the blood seeping into the wooden floorboards, the mattress, and say no more about it to anyone else. Rey didn’t plan for this part, but maybe Hux has.

When he returns, kneeling close and gathering her into his arms, and she falls against him.  _ Finally. _ He pets her hair as she weeps against his tunic, clinging to his jacket lapels and leaving a great damp spot against his shoulder where she rubs her face into his warmth. His grip is almost too tight, his breathing too even, but he’s curling around her too, not letting her go.

“You foolish girl,” he says, brushing her hair back from her cheeks. “What have you done?” Each word drips with fondness though, overlayed with the sort of reluctant concern that should be surprising but isn’t.

When she’s steady on her feet, he leads her into an adjacent room, closes the double doors that open to this second room as quietly as he can manage, and eases her to the bed. He strips her of her soiled brothel costume—form fitted corset and bralette to match. There’s a basin of water on the nightstand—ready for paying customers, and Hux does his best to clean the blood from her shaking hands, kneeling before her in the darkness, hair falling into his eyes. She thinks he might be shaking a little, too, but his mouth is upturned—pleased. He’s already five steps ahead of this room, and Rey wants to know what happens next, wonders if Hux would tell her if she asked.

“It will be okay,” he whispers hushed reasurances, even as his eyes keep watch on the door behind her shoulder, always capable of two tasks at once. “I’ve got you. Do you understand?”

Rey stares blankly, lets the hot tears spill over while Hux undresses her. Takes care of her. She never expected—

“You always know what to do,” she whispers into the darkness. The shadow of smeared blood along her wrist disappears while Hux swipes at it, efficient strokes from the cloth. Not rough, but not soothing either in the rush to clean her.

Hux looks at her with concern. Rey doesn’t like that she’s the cause of it, reaches up to smooth the crease between his brow, and he catches her fingers between his damp ones, kisses her wrist with care, just over the scar that means nothing now.

“Where’s Ren?” Rey asks, feeling her courage resurface, a fleeting rush.

Hux releases a great breath, relieved to see her responsive. “We’ll go to him. He’s not far.”

Phasma enters without a word, slips Rey’s usual clothing to Hux and they exchange a whispered conversation at the door before Hux returns to her. Rey steps into her trousers, and Hux laces her boots for her.

The urgency of the situation begins to rush forward to meet her, and she throws off the last of her borrowed clothes, not caring about her nudity—and finds it odd that Hux refuses to meet her eyes while he’s still lacing up her boots. She pulls the shirt on and buttons it quickly. Stands so Hux can help her into her long jacket while she fastens her wide belt and pulls the brim of her hat down to tuck her hair inside it.

They leave the brothel quickly, huddled to the shadows while hand in hand, and make their way to the winding alley behind it. Ren is there, waiting with a second horse, looking impatient.  His face contorts into a series of complicated emotions when he sees her—anger, regret, fear, urgency. He glances up at the second floor from where they came, and nearly leaves them to enter the brothel, but Hux grabs his forearm, hisses something Rey can’t hear, and Ren takes a breath and steps back from the brothel.  _ There’s nothing left, _ Rey wants to tell him.  _ Captain Snoke is dead. _ He mounts his horse with a good measure of frustration, resigned to follow their original plan.

There’s no time to find a third horse, so he hoists her up behind him and she hopes they’ll not be going too far inland. Hux mounts the second horse and they take off at a gallop, Rey burying her face against Ren’s solid weight, holding tightly to his middle.

They take her to a cottage a ways off from the main dirt roads leading to Nassau town. This way lies the vast sugarcane plantations of the interior, flanked by a few of these smaller plots of land, likely owned by indentured servants who were able to buy their freedom sometime before the African slaves were brought to the West Indies.

There were rumors of his place too from the men aboard the  _ Finalizer _ . A house in the interior of New Providence Island where the captain would often disappear to when they were grounded for more than a few days, a house where he kept a wife, a witch who cast spells upon him to keep him returning to her time after time.

When they enter it, the cottage appears to be empty, a dusty hearth and open parlor leading to several smaller bedrooms toward the west. Modest furniture and comforts.

Hux leads her to a bedroom, stark and unadorned. There’s a large four poster bed pushed against the wall, and two large windows with sheer white curtains open opposite the bed. There’s a table with a basin for washing in the corner and a small wardrobe in the corner. Hux appears to know his way around this room so he’s likely been here before. He opens a drawer and takes out a men’s linen sleeping gown.

“You’ll stay here for now. No one knows of this place. No one will find you here. We’ll return soon. There are things to manage in Snoke’s absence, a story to weave about his unfortunate accident. We’ll need to calm his crew—assure them the brothel girl last seen with him is dead as well. We’ll fabricate something on your behalf—it’s best if you stay here for now.”

“Hux,” Rey pleads, feeling the tears threaten once again. “Don’t leave.  _ Don’t leave me here alone. _ ”

“Rey,” Hux soothes. He laces his fingers through her hair, bends to kiss her forehead. “ _ You did so well. _ This is the beginning, don’t you see?”

Rey doesn’t feel as if this is a beginning. She clings to him, fisting his shirt so he can’t move away. “We should go,” Ren says, standing at the doorway, under the shadows.

“Ren,” Rey says, voice cracking. The tears do fall then, and Ren takes one hesitating step forward, still holding the doorframe like it’s keeping him anchored, still hesitating for no reason at all.

“Ren.” It’s Hux this time, stretching a hand toward him, beckoning him forward with a raised eyebrow. Rey wants nothing more than for him to hold her, for them both to hold her. Ren slides up behind her. He smells like firewood and charcoal dust—fresh from lighting the hearth for unnecessary warmth. He kisses her cheek gently and holds a hand low on her belly until she rests against his weight.

Hux grins at them both, reaches forward to frame her face with both hands and kisses Rey solidly on the lips. “Our beautiful, foolish girl,” he whispers. “And you—” he trials off, reaching back for Ren as well. When they kiss with Rey is still flush between them, her heart beats too hard—and she’s sure they’ll both feel it.

Rey closes her eyes, feels so safe, enclosed, cared for, included.

She doesn’t move, not even when she feels Hux’s hands on her, stripping her of her clothes once again, slowly until she’s bare aside from the oversized men’s tunic. Ren doesn’t let her go when Hux retrieves the sleeping shirt from the bed, says “Up,” and Rey holds her arms high, so Hux can remove her tunic and slip the sleeping gown over her bare arms and head. Ren steps back so he can smooth the gown down over her body, lightly skimming his hands over her torso and hips. It must be his, if she’s judging from the size. It pools over her hands and comes well past her knees, but it’s light and soft.

“There’s a well out back if you care to draw a bath,” Ren says, rumbling instructions low against her ear. “Keep the hearth fire low. There are pots for boiling. Don’t go beyond the yard. We’ll return before dawn and bring food with us. There’s some dried beans and rice in the pantry if we’re delayed, and there’s a vegetable garden out back, but I can’t promise anything is edible. As you can guess, it’s not tended to regularly. There’s a pistol in the pantry and gunpowder and bullets stored there as well. There shouldn’t be trouble, but if there is—”

“Go,” Rey reassures them. “I’ll be okay until you return.”

Rey just wants to sleep. She nods once and they leave her, riding hard just as fat droplets of rain begin falling.

* * *

At dawn, she rises from the big empty bed to silence, still alone.

There’s a grey mist enveloping the cottage, not quite rain, but the air feels damp and heavy when she goes to retrieve water from the well and wash the remaining blood and grit from her clothes. She decides not to panic yet. There’s no use in playing the what if scenarios over and over again, and she’s survived this long alone—she doesn’t need anyone else, and especially not—no.  _ No. _ She can do this, starts a fire in the hearth and brings three large buckets filled with cool well water, fills half of the tub then brings the boiled water to equalize the temperature, an indulgence she’s not sure she deserves.

Her stomach rumbles as she fills the tub, but she ignores it, not really feeling hungry at all.

The tub is a dull greyish brown when she’s done bathing, and she regrets sleeping before bathing last night—probably dirtying the sheets with the residual blood and sweat from the previous week.

Just as the water is growing too cool to bask in any longer, Ren rides up on his horse, cloaked and alone. Rey doesn’t move, just watches him rope the horse at the front of the cottage and haul a bag to his shoulder, presumably filled with food as promised. He looks exhausted and there’s a purpling bruise across his jawline. Rey regards him from the tub, chin resting on her arm when he enters the bedroom, following him with her eyes. He nearly trips on his cloak, stunned to see her at first, or maybe just not expecting to see her in the bath.

“You’re okay?” Ren asks. The bag is gone. He must have left it near the hearth.

Rey nods slowly, rubs her damp face across her arm to clear the water from her eyes. Feeling much more relaxed with him near and the bath soothing her aching muscles, she hopes he’s okay.

“Are you?” she asks softly. Ren sits on the bed with a heavy sigh, letting his weight sink into the mattress. He nods  _ yes _ while running his hands over his face, letting out a yawn as well. She can’t imagine he’s slept in the last two days.

“Where’s Hux?” Rey asks while Ren is removing his jacket, his gun holster and sword belt, weapons falling away into a pool on the floor near his feet.

“He’s overseeing the resupply of the  _ Finalizer _ . We should be set for departure before dawn. He’ll be here soon.”

“You’re leaving?” Rey swallows, her heart sinking low. She had feared this, after all. With no real plan forward, she hadn’t assumed they would take her onboard the  _ Finalizer  _ again. Too great a risk.

“Yes,” Ren says, a frown of concentration set between his brows—studying her reaction as if he can read her mind by sheer will. He doesn’t ask a question, doesn’t ask her what her plan is, so she knows she isn’t welcome to follow.

Rey reaches for the white sleeping gown, Ren’s, and uses it to cover herself as she stands, dripping from the bath. She pulls the sleeping gown down and over her head. It clings to her damp skin while she steps out of the bath, and Ren’s head remains bowed while he carefully unlaces his boots and pulls them off with a wince.

Rey ties her wet hair back with a leather cord. Her freshly washed clothes are damp and drying on a line in the yard, so the sleeping gown will have to do for now. “I’ll fill the bath for you with clean water, and then I hope you’ll tell me what happened.”

Ren doesn’t look up, hair falling across his eyes, but nods his agreement.

* * *

“You look exhausted,” Rey says, regarding the ugly bruise across his jaw without asking about it. 

She slides a bowl of fish stew in front of him, hot and bubbling from the hearth. She’d used the vegetables and fresh fish Ren brought with him from town while he bathed. There was even a bit of salt saved in the pantry she used for seasoning—a luxury they didn’t have aboard the  _ Finalizer.  _ It’s the very least she can do before they leave later in the day. 

“It was a long night and morning,” Ren explains, without really explaining anything at all.

“I’m not sorry,” Rey says, leveling her chin and standing her ground. “I thought about apologizing to you and to Hux for having to clean up after the mess I left, but I won’t. I thought about it and  _ I’m not sorry _ .”

She sits adjacent to him at the table, arms across her chest to protect herself in case he yells at her or calls her foolish or something worse.

To her surprise, Ren just continues eating, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth that he probably thinks she won’t notice.

“You’ve nothing to say to me?” Rey says, voice raising without her permission. She doesn’t care either, because letting out her frustration feels good, an intentional release of emotions after hours of saying nothing to no one. “Whoever insisted revenge doesn’t feel good was  _ fucking wrong. _ I watched Snoke die and I would do it again without hesitating.” 

She doesn’t  _ want _ to do it again. It’s the last thing she wants—to be a room with his lifeless body, his abandoned soul spilling over the hardwood in a crimson gush. The tears fill her eyes, and she swipes at them roughly with the back of her hand, hates that Snoke still has a choke hold on her emotions, even if she doesn’t regret what she did.

Rey’s surprised when he reaches out to her, covers her cheek with his big hand—smelling of soap now instead of gunpowder and smoke and leather. When she turns her face into his hand, she swears she can still smell the sea, the sunned warmth and salt breeze. It must live under his skin, the rolling call of the ocean, ingrained within him. Rey remembers that smell from her father all those years ago—and has always found it smells like home to her.

“Rey,” Ren whispers, and Rey sniffs back more tears, turns away from him to use the sleeve of her gown to clean her face, her running nose. “Rey,” he says again to get her attention. 

Rey looks at him now with a huff. 

“It’s over, Rey. I killed Snoke’s Quartermaster last night. He was the only one that questioned our involvement. Gave me this in the struggle.” Ren touches his fingertips to his jawline and pulls his tunic lower to reveal a raw scrape to his shoulder—a nasty burn from sliding in the sand. “The remaining members of Snoke’s crew have left aboard the  _ Supremacy. _ Three of the crews loyal to us have agreed to pursue her. She won’t have gone far without supplies and we think we know where to find her. After we secure the  _ Supremacy _ , all of the pirate crews of Nassau will fall in line, and all of it—it’s because you took a chance.”

Rey takes a deep breath and steadies herself against the table, hip cocked into the frame. She still isn’t sure what any of this means for her. With a hard swallow, Ren reaches a hand out to her, all of his emotions brought forward, giving her the choice to accept what he’s offering. The scar at his wrist is revealed beneath his sleeve, and Rey reaches for her own, runs her thumb over the permanent reminder of how and why she’s here. 

“So you’ll be the pirate king of the West Indies, then. Free of Snoke, free to shape Nassau as you please,” Rey whispers, eyes trailing from his face and down to his outstretched hand.

“Every king needs a queen,” Ren says, genuine and earnest and everything Rey never expected from him.

She takes his hand and is immediately filled with warmth when he pulls her closer, their hands entwined as she steps between his open thighs and he buries his face into her stomach, breathing against her.      

“And Hux?”

He looks up at her, eyes half-lidded. She can’t resist threading her fingers through his clean hair. “Hux wants you—to come with us.  _ Wants you like I want you. _ ”

Rey nods, can’t keep the smile from her lips any longer, and hopes the blush she feels creeping on slowly doesn’t reach her cheeks while he’s looking at her like that. 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Rey says.

* * *

Ren falls asleep on the bed, big hand sticky-warm across her hip, the sleeping gown pulled up high so he can get at her skin. Rey is ready for more, but she doesn’t push, recognizes the exhaustion in the slow pull of Ren’s mouth against hers, languid kisses that aren’t headed in any particular direction. She hooks her ankle around his calf, traces the lines of his face for awhile with gentle brushes of her fingertips, and lets him sleep.

She must have fallen asleep too, because she’s pulled back to consciousness when Ren is moving suddenly away from her, reaching for something, startled by an intruder. 

When Rey can focus, she sees Hux at the doorway to the bedroom and breathes a sigh of relief.

“That’s how you’d like to begin?” he teases, and Rey looks back at Ren, confused. There’s a short blade in his hand, fearing an intruder, but the tension in his grip loosens at the sight of Hux and he puts it down, hilt first, on the small bedside table. 

Hux comes forward without hesitation, a small smiles on his lips. He’s already slipping his tunic over his head. His jacket and weapons are discarded already, along with his boots.

Rey yawns and lays back again, content to watch Hux grab for Ren and kiss him not so gently—nothing like the kisses she shared with Ren earlier. These set her stomach fluttering anew, the gentle pulse of arousal sending her body into hyperawareness. Hux is murmuring reassurances when they break apart to breathe, updates on cargo and crew, and Rey only hears half of what he says.

“The  _ Finalizer _ is ready when we are. Eight hours at the most,” is the last thing he says. It’s a pity they don’t have more time here, but it’s more than Rey expected, so they’ll just have to make the most of it. Rey can think of a few things to occupy them.

She nudges at Hux’s hip with her toes, and he grabs her ankle to keep her there—ready.

“You should have a wash. Eat. You must be exhausted,” Rey says, teasing, when Hux sets a raised eyebrow in her direction. She bends her knee to rest a foot on his thigh, opening her legs in invitation from where she’s nestled into Ren’s shoulder, comfortable for the first time since sleeping in the captain’s quarters of the  _ Finalizer _ .

Gaining his full attention, Hux crawls over her, leaning in low, and raking the gown up and over her hips before settling between her legs. “Give me five minutes,” he says. “I want to touch you—both of you, without blood and sand on my hands.” 

Rey doesn’t let him go without a kiss, holds him by the neck until she’s satisfied that she can taste Ren there too.

Then he’s gone again, probably forgoing the tub in the corner of the room for a quicker cold wash with a bucket on the back porch. He calls over his shoulder from the door. “They’ll be punishment for both of you if you begin without me.”

Rey lets a small hiccuping laugh escape once he’s gone, and she hides her face into Ren’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen him so genuinely happy. Does murder always put him in this mood?”

Rey is proud of herself for finding the courage to joke about it.

Ren sighs and turns toward her, pulling her close so her leg is hooked over his hip. Where they’re skin to skin, there’s already sweat clinging in the afternoon humidity. Ren is hard against her, and there’s a little thrill in feeling his length and knowing the cause. She pushes against him, just to hear the hitch in his breath. 

“We’re pirates, aren’t we? I hope you weren’t expecting a different outcome,” Ren whispers, and Rey laughs because this is what her life has become, and she’s never been more elated, doesn’t care, not one bit about the life she left behind—not if it means giving up Ren’s hand slowly traveling the back of her thigh to gently squeezing her behind, watching her expression closely, growing bolder as the heat creeps along Rey’s chest and cheeks. She wants him to touch her, sink his strong hands between her legs to feel how wet she is already. She squeezes his bicep in encouragement.

“Have you done this before?” he whispers, unaccusing.

“I think I can safely say not many people will ever do  _ this _ .” 

“That’s—not what I meant,” Ren murmurs.

Rey kisses him for how gentle he’s being, chases his mouth when he pulls away to peer down at her with unneeded concern. “Don’t let Hux’s enthusiasm fool you. We’ll both go as slowly as you need.”

“I’ve never…” Rey trails off, feeling the words stick in her throat. Ren just leans his forehead against her shoulder and nods, breathes deep and remains still, obviously rethinking his approach, but she doesn’t want that either. Doesn’t want him to hesitate, or to treat her like she’s fragile for having no experience, or to think she’ll regret any of it after. “But I’m ready,” she adds and reaches for his hand, gripping his wrist strong enough that he’ll know she’s serious, guides it down between her legs so he can feel for himself. “I want you to touch me. I won’t learn if I don’t try—if you don’t teach me.”

“I want that,” Ren whispers against her lips. “I want to show you everything.  _ We’ll  _ show you everything.” 

And Rey can’t hold back her moan when Ren’s thumb finds her clit, her legs falling open wider. She’s already overwhelmed when he slips one finger inside, hand big enough to rub at her clit at the same time. It’s too much, almost. She keeps a hold of his wrist, uses it to rock her hips up slightly when he finds the best angle.

“Is that okay?”

Rey bites her bottom lip. 

“Yes,” she breathes, and thinks she manages to say it in a normal tone, but maybe she doesn’t because Ren is chuckling lightly as he looks down at her with such knowing adoration Rey can hardly stand it. She claws at his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, until he lowers his weight onto her and kisses her until her lips are swollen and tingling, and she can’t waste energy on breathing for how  _ good _ it is.

Hux returns sometime later, damp and smelling of soap, bare skin against Rey’s hand when she reaches toward him without looking, palm open in invitation. 

“You didn't get very far without me. _ Good, _ ” Hux says, pressing kisses along her forearm before dropping her hand to remove the rest of his clothing. He’s the first to be fully naked, long lean frame, reddened sun-marked arms and neck outlined by paler skin always concealed behind his clothes, unashamed in a way that leads Rey to assume he’s thought about this moment, how all of this will go. She’s happy to let him take the lead for a while, and imagines Ren will feel similarly. 

Body heavy from the languid pace, Rey sits up at Hux’s urging. 

“Go easy, Hux,” Ren warns, raising an eyebrow in Hux’s direction as if his expression alone will convey the extent of Rey’s inexperience. 

Rey braces herself for their conversation about her virginity while they’re touching her, hovering above and just out of reach. She won’t be discussed without her participation in the conversation. She’s had enough of that for one lifetime. 

“I think she can handle more,” Hux challenges, choosing his words carefully. “Rey?”

“Yes,” she agrees, and that seems to be the extent of their conversation. Rey is more than relieved. 

“There she is. Determined, beautiful, foolish Rey.  _ Come here _ ,” Hux beckons, reaching a hand out until she folds herself against his front. From behind, Hux drags the gown up and over her head. Splays his hands over her breasts and nudges her backward until she’s seated on his thighs. He moves his legs apart and her knees separate so she’s open and on display. A bead of sweat drips down her spine, and Hux leans forward to lick at the back of her neck, twists her hair around his hand to pin it away from her back and then uses the same hand to knead her breast, gently rocks his erection along the cleft of her bottom. 

She doesn’t think he’ll try to enter her there, not yet, but the thought is thrilling all the same, and Rey tries to imagine all the ways they could come together as three—and must admit she likes being surprised beyond her imagination.

_ This is the beginning, _ Hux had said. This is part of her discovery, stepping through that door into their world, and Rey is nearly vibrating in anticipation.

Ren removes his clothing while they watch, bronzed body hardened by life at sea, lean and strong and shiny with sweat. The scar across his torso is fully healed now, still pink and puckered with new skin. Rey curls her toes in anticipation when his hard cock is freed, and Hux digs fingers into her thigh so she’ll open her legs even wider, encourages her with words barely understood. She yields to his direction until her legs are as far apart as she can manage, trembling with need, breath stuttered and cheek pressed to Hux’s.

“You’ve done so well, my love,” Hux whispers to her, voice twining with her arousal, adding another level of sensory to her deepening well of need. He trails one hand between her legs, spreading her wetness over the folds, brushing along her clit so lightly Rey wants to scream at him for teasing her. “You deserve everything. To be fucked as you want, to learn how to shoot a pistol and wield a cutlass, to command the seas, and to have the West Indies cower at your feet.  _ We’ll give you that. _ ”

Ren crawls to them until he’s sitting on his heels and touching her again. She reaches for him, bringing him forward with hands locked around his neck.

“What’s ours is yours.  _ Always, _ ” Ren promises.

Hux reaches for Ren’s cock, pumps it between them, and Ren’s mouth falls open. Rey leans forward to take his bottom lip between her teeth, pulls him closer until they’re chest to chest, damp, hot skin surrounding her on all sides and she’s never felt more alive. 

“Are you ready?” Hux asks, and Rey can only sigh and tilt her head to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  _ Yes.  _ She’s been ready for hours. Days. _ A lifetime. _

When Ren finally enters her, pushes forward so slow that Rey can feel him trembling too, she panics just a little from the intense pressure, a new sensation, and so different from her own hand, as Ren penetrates her, opens her up so slowly. 

“Shh, relax. It only gets better from here,” Hux encourages, still a constant warmth at her back, nowhere to go but forward. She clings to Ren, and he waits as long as she needs, even when she can feel the tension building all along his shoulders as he struggles to hold himself still, maybe just as overwhelmed. That’s better. Knowing he’s there with her in this. 

“Tell her,” Hux whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to Ren’s furrowed brow, trailing lower until their lips catch.

“It’s so good, Rey. I can feel your heart beating, the warmth of your skin, every part of you holding me together.”

“Move. I’m okay,” Rey whispers back, needing to know what comes next, how any of this could possibly get better because she might shatter from the pleasure already bearing down on her. 

Ren hesitates, hands on Rey’s hips to keep them both anchored, but Hux nudges her forward and they both groan. He moves then, encouraged, a steady roll that lights Rey from the inside. After she adjusts to the rhythm they’ve set, she relaxes and lets them take care of her. 

She leans her head back against Hux’s shoulder and he kisses the corner of her mouth before reaching down between them.  Ren grunts from the unexpected contact, before his fingers settle over her clit once more, matching Ren’s movements in a way that has Rey moaning aloud. She comes soon after—lets it build and break just as easily, tumbling through her until she’s shaking all over but still held up between them.

“You make the prettiest noises when you come. I wonder what you’ll sound like when I put my mouth here?” Hux says, still stroking her clit through the aftershocks.

“I can’t—” Ren announces, breathing heavily, eyes screwed shut like he’s desperate to come. 

Rey whines in protest when he pulls out of her, leaving her empty but satisfied. She knows what’s coming when Ren starts to stroke himself, but it’s still a shock when Ren comes on her, hot streaks of milky white painted along her stomach, some of it between her breasts. After, Hux drags his fingers through the sticky mess, and Rey would protest at the filthy slide if she had any energy left to do so.

She leans forward until all of her weight is on Ren and manages to push him backward, both of them still heaving, hot and sticky. She sprawls across his chest, not caring about the come drying between them. 

“Come here,” Ren breathes, holding a hand out to Hux. 

Rey can barely keep her eyes open, but she can’t close them yet, fascinated by Ren lifting to his elbows so he can suck Hux’s cock into his mouth. Rey reaches out, and Hux guides her hand to hold the base of his cock. Feeling bold, she leans up on her elbows to take Hux’s cock into her own mouth, and Ren makes this noise of approval against her cheek that encourages her to try taking more in. 

“What a tease you’ve become already,” Hux declares, but there’s no bite to his words with how out of breath he is. He fists her hair and tugs just a little to keep her from going to deep. Rey finds she likes that too.

When Rey looks up at Hux, there’s a flush to his cheeks that suits him quite well, mouth open as he watches her. She chokes when her enthusiasm in proving she’s not trying to tease gets the best of her, and Ren eases her back, kisses her deep to show her he’s pleased, smiling through it.

“You’ll both be the death of me, I swear,” Hux murmurs, pulling at his own cock. “But, if I have the opportunity to choose how I go out in this world, well…” He comes before he can finish his thought, mostly on Ren’s collarbones and chin but some of it across Rey’s shoulder. He leans forward to lick at the come across Ren’s neck, smiling widely.  Ren sucks on his tongue and pulls him down to them. It’s different. Seeing their affection for each other from this vantage.

Rey thinks she could easily get used to being a part of it.  

* * *

When Rey awakens, she’s alone in bed again.

She stretches her muscles, aching in places that are new but not unpleasant. Her clothes are dry—laid out before her on the bed. She sits up and spots Hux across the room, already dressed and easing on his sword belt. 

“Morning, love,” he says, and greets her by easing the curls back from her ears, kisses each cheek and adds a chaste press of his lips to hers—such a contrast to how he kissed her a few hours ago, but she finds she likes these quiet, soft moments just as much.

It’s dark out still. The room lit by candlelight and shadows. “It’s not morning yet,” she says, yawning, but she scoots to the edge of the bed anyway, braiding her tangled hair, knowing it will be time to leave soon. Hux sits down next to her, easing on his boots and nudging hers from under the bed toward her bare feet. 

“No, but it is a new day. It will be light soon.” 

Rey dresses quickly and Hux helps her into her boots, a constant smile on his lips that is unfairly contagious. 

They eat the last of the fish stew and secure the house before leaving by horseback. Rey hopes they’ll return here, a secret place that belongs only to them, where the stresses can fall away and they can just  _ be _ without power struggles and politics and set roles defining them. Upon the horse, Rey presses to Ren’s back in the same way she came here, but this time, she only looks forward, Hux riding in front of them at a steady clip, back straight and proud, toward Nassau town and the  _ Supremacy _ beyond. 

Just as the sun rises orange and yellow over the horizon, warming the island sand and fields of sugarcane, Rey begins again—not as a revenge-seeking stowaway or ship captive or brothel whore, but as an  _ equal _ having earned her place among the pirates of Nassau, with Quartermaster and Captain of the  _ Finalizer _ at her side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, it's finished!! I had so much fun with this indulgent threesome one shot that spiraled into the longest thing I've written for SW. As always, comments are greatly appreciated--even if it's just the 'thanks! I enjoyed this' variety! Thanks to everyone who's followed along so far and left comments on previous chapters. You guys make my heart swell with so much happiness. :)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here.](http://samedifference61.tumblr.com/)


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